


Anonymous Devotion

by Deeranger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crazy, Fear, Fetish, Freaked Out Sam Winchester, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Smut, Non-Consensual, Obsessive Behavior, One Shot, Poor Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester's Hair, Scared Sam Winchester, Tied-Up Sam Winchester, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Weird Plot Shit, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 20:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/pseuds/Deeranger
Summary: Sam wakes up in a stranger's kitchen and finds himself tied to a chair - and in the company of someone who has a very special kind of love for him. Weirdness ensues.





	Anonymous Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> So this one of my attempts to write <1,000 word one shots (and failing). This story is based off a Tumblr prompt. It's unlike me to keep a fic smutless, but here ya go! *Snorts*

 

 

 

 

With a groan Sam cracked his eyes open. The light that hit him instantly ricocheted through his head like a stray bullet and ignited a sharp headache, making him want to close his eyes again. But warily he tried to scan his surroundings despite the urge to let himself drift back to sleep. The checkered linoleum floor squeaked lightly, and Sam drowsily twisted and craned his neck to look at the person moving around somewhere behind him. He could hear someone rummaging about, and it made him feel more than uneasy. But he wasn’t able to get a proper view from his current position, and he let his head drop a little, easing the strain on his aching muscles and tendons.

 

   
“What do you want?” he asked into the air, squirming in the seat. He cursed himself internally, trying to will his headache to go away. He hadn’t seen this coming. In fact he must have let his guard down when walking home from the bar last night, because suddenly a vicious pain had exploded in the back of his head and everything had turned black – and the next thing he knew he woke up here… Apparently in some stranger’s kitchen, tied to a chair. How had he not known that he was being followed? He had only had two beers after all.

 

  
“Why am I here?” he asked, but still there wasn’t any answer from the person moving around somewhere behind him, scuffling their feet across the linoleum. Swallowing Sam tugged at his restraints again, fingers examining the rope and working to find a knot he could undo or a weakness or gap he could somehow slip his hands through. Finding none he scanned his surroundings once more, looking for anything familiar, any sort of land mark. But there was none. Daylight was pouring in, filtered through some blue, semi-sheer curtains in the kitchen window and blocking his view to the outside. Even though the light was diffused it was still hurting his eyes, adding to his headache.

 

  
Suddenly the squeaking sound of feet against linoleum grew a bit louder, and Sam knew that his captor was approaching him. Focused on staying calm Sam let his hands relax, stopped his attempt to free himself from the rope tying his arms behind the back of the heavy, wooden chair. The shrill-sounding footsteps then stopped right behind him, a hand placing itself on his shoulder. Sam nearly jumped.

 

  
“You’re beautiful,” a male voice all too close to Sam’s ear said. Blinking rapidly in confusion Sam froze when the hand on his shoulder squeezed him lightly. It then began travelling up the side of his neck and into his hair, nuzzling his nape carefully.

 

  
“What are you doing?” Sam asked, trying to jerk his head away from the unwanted touch. But instantly the hand grabbed a hold of his hair, holding him still – only the grip wasn’t painful or even particularly hard. Instead it was light, yet firm. Almost sort of gentle. Frozen in the chair Sam’s mind raced to figure out what this stranger was up to, but he came up short. Puzzled Sam forced himself to stay passive as the fingers in his hair started to loosen their grip a little.

 

  
“Sit still,” the deep voice behind him said softly, almost passionately. Sam’s brows knitted themselves together in perplexed bewilderment and nervousness.

 

  
“Why?” he heard himself ask. A slight huff escaped the man behind him, the warm air from his breath sweeping across Sam’s skin. It felt like his face was only inches away, and Sam cringed a little.   

 

  
“Don’t worry…” the man said. In the same moment his fingers started to slowly card through Sam’s hair, carefully playing with it and lightly tugging at the strands. A growing anxiousness had formed a small ball of tension in the young hunter’s gut, and he had to concentrate in order not to whip his head away.

 

  
“What do you _want_?!” Sam spat, but his voice came out a little less confident than he would have preferred. A small, breathless chuckle escaped the man behind him.

 

  
“I just want… Just want to know how it feels,” he said, almost in a whisper. Frowning Sam tried to turn his head again to look at his captor, but once more the fingers tightened their grip in his hair just enough to deter him.

 

  
“Know how what feels…?” Sam asked, mouth suddenly dry. His hands had resumed the task of finding any weakness in the restraints to exploit, and apparently his captor either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

 

  
“This,” the man said as he loosened his grip on Sam again and started to stroke his hair, letting his fingertips play with the brown locks. Dumbfounded Sam’s lips started to form some sort of question, but the words got jumbled up in his mind before making it out of his mouth. Instead he just sat there silently, brows furrowed and breath slightly hitching. What was going on?  

 

  
“It’s even softer than I thought,” the man then said, stroking Sam’s hair and letting out something resembling a small moan in the process. Sam’s eyebrows instantly shot up.

 

  
“Just beautiful,” the voice whispered in Sam’s ear, and goose bumps instantly rose on the hunter’s sensitive skin as the hot puff of breath blew across it.

 

  
“Wait, what…??” Sam managed to say, cringing when the man’s left hand joined his right and they started to card their fingers through the length of his hair like some sort of makeshift brush. An appreciative sound escaped the man behind him, and astonished Sam just sat there not knowing what to say.

 

  
“I can’t even place the color of it. It’s like… Is it chestnut or chocolate? Or gingerbread or caramel?” the man said, sounding amazed. His hands kept carding through Sam’s strands, occasionally petting his head in between, while he continued to make strange, approving sounds. Feeling a shiver run down his spine Sam swallowed.

 

  
“It’s like a mane of russet glory…” the man said under his breath. Uneasy Sam blinked, unable to quite understand what was going on.

 

  
“So… You like my hair?” he asked dumbly.

 

  
“Of course!” the man burst out, and Sam was certain that he could sense the man smiling from ear to ear even though he couldn’t actually see him.

 

  
“But why am I here?” Sam asked carefully, licking his bottom lip nervously. The man behind him merely chuckled.

 

  
“That _is_ why,” he smiled, stroking Sam’s locks with movements that were both careful and gentle.

 

  
“Y-You… You knocked me out and tied me up so you could… Touch my hair?” Sam asked in bafflement, not believing the words that came out of the stranger’s mouth. A small sigh escaped his captor.

 

  
“I’m sorry… I just… I couldn’t exactly just walk up and ask you, could I?” he said softly, fingers nuzzling and caressing the strands of hair affectionately.

 

  
“It creeps people out,” he added, sounding almost apologetic. This time Sam couldn’t help but let out a huff.

 

  
“And this doesn’t?” he asked, a hint of anger lacing his voice. For a moment the fingers stopped their fondling, and the man seemed to hesitate a bit.

 

  
“I… I do apologize. I really do. I’ll let you go soon and I’ll try not to hit you too hard this time. I promise,” he said, and instantly Sam felt himself tense up, body going rigid in the chair.

 

  
“What?! No! You’re _not_ hitting me again! What’s wrong with you!?” he snapped, and this time he started to thrash in the chair. His captor let go of him as he squirmed, the linoleum floor squeaking once again as he moved.

 

  
“I can’t have you turning me in,” the man said flatly. Sam could hear him opening a kitchen drawer and rummage about for something.

 

  
“I won’t! Just don’t fucking hit me or I swear I’m gonna—“ Sam began, but suddenly a hand placed itself under his chin, pressing something cold against his skin. Instantly Sam froze when he recognized the unmistakable feeling of a knife.

 

  
“Sssh… It’s okay,” the man said. Panicked Sam felt how droplets of sweat were emerging on his forehead, and he realized that he had never even seen the man’s face. And now this creep might kill him.

 

  
“Don’t…!” Sam managed to spit through gritted teeth, heart beating frantically in his chest and making his pulse roar in his ears.

 

  
“Easy now. Let me just… Take a little something to remember you by,” the man said breathlessly, and suddenly Sam felt his other hand grab him by the hair, pulling his head back a little. ‘This is it’, Sam thought feverishly. Desperately he was pulling at the rope tying him to the chair, making the rough hemp fibers dig into his wrists and rub them bloody. Screwing his eyes shut he could do nothing but sit here and wait for this psycho to slash his throat. Fear rippled through him and left him to shiver, cold sweat covering his entire body in a sticky sheet. But then the knife was suddenly removed from under his chin.

 

  
“Don’t move,” the man ordered, tightening his grip on Sam’s hair a little. Sam inhaled raggedly as his mind raced to decide whether he should comply or not. Did he have anything to lose at this point? Did he have anything to gain? But before he could make any kind of decision there was a recognizable sound that had Sam jump in the chair. The distinct sound of a knife slicing through something pierced Sam’s ears and a gasp escaped him. This was it. But he could still breathe, it seemed. And why wasn’t he feeling any pain?

 

  
“There we go,” the man said, his voice almost drowned out by the roaring in Sam’s ears. That was good. At least it meant that his heart was still beating, because his pulse was hammering away like some heavy metal drummer was going berserk on his eardrums, on his sternum, everywhere. Snapping for air Sam cracked his eyes open just a tiny bit.

 

  
“Thank you,” the man behind him said. He sounded almost genuinely grateful, Sam thought dizzily. Trying to focus his eyes he realized that there was still no pain, except the ever-present headache, and he fixed his gaze at the semi-sheer curtains in the window to try to ground himself just a little bit. But just as he did a hand entered his field of vision. Sam jumped and got almost cross-eyed as he tried to refocus his eyes and adapt to the shorter distance – and he realized that the hand’s fingers were holding something.

 

  
“Wasn’t so bad, was it? And look how beautiful it is,” the man said, whispered, against his nape. Finally able to focus, Sam’s jaw dropped when he realized that the fingers were holding a lock of his hair. That had obviously been what the knife had been cutting through before.  

 

  
“I’ll cherish it forever. It will be the centerpiece in my collection,” the man said, sounding proud. Sam let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

 

  
“You’re sick…” he gasped. The hand holding the hair retreated from his field of vision, and Sam heard the stranger’s feet scuffle across the checkered linoleum again. The sound of the man inhaling deeply though his nose several times let Sam know that he had to be sniffing the hair that he had just cut off. 

 

  
“Mmm, I know. And I’m sorry. But I promise that I’ll never bother you again,” the stranger  said, letting out a content sigh. Again he was rummaging for something, and Sam pulled at the rope frantically. Because he knew what it meant.

 

  
“Let me go! You can’t do this!” he yelled, now fuming with anger, twisting and bucking against the rope and making the chair wobble.

 

  
“I can. I know I shouldn’t, but… I can’t help it,” the stranger said, his voice taking on a regretful tone. Once more the linoleum floor squeaked and a hand was placed on Sam’s shoulder, squeezing it carefully. The hunter snapped for air.

 

  
“It has been an honor, Sam,” the man said softly, letting his fingers card through his hair one last time, carefully and affectionately. And before Sam had the chance to register the fact that the man knew his name something hit him in the back of the head. White stars exploded in his vision along with a vicious pain shooting through his skull. The blue semi-sheer curtains in the window in front of him were instantly engulfed by darkness when the bright stars faded to be replaced by pitch black, sweeping him away into unconsciousness. 

 

 

             


End file.
